


Sleepover

by mercurymoon7490195



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Childhood Friends, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurymoon7490195/pseuds/mercurymoon7490195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You remember those sleepovers we used to have as kids. Eating junk food, staying up late, finding yourself sucked into a discussion on the meaning of life at 2am. You can learn a lot about a person at 2am, you know. (Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac, around age 10. Modern/Reincarnation AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepover

"'Ferre, wake up."

Combeferre groaned and swatted him away, rolling over. "'S too early, Courf. Go back to sleep."

Courfeyrac shook his head. "It's Enjolras, though." He lowered his voice. "He's locked himself in the bathroom."

"Tell him to try jiggling the handle." Combeferre rolled over and closed his eyes, settling back into his sleeping bag. And then he heard it; a soft, muffled, crying from the next room over.

"Oh." he scrambled to his feet, shoving his glasses on his face as he hurried over to the bathroom door. Courfeyrac followed, his eyes wide and concerned.

"E?" Combeferre knocked quietly, leaning against the door frame. "Are you okay?"

The sniffling trailed off. "Go away," Enjolras replied, his voice hoarse. "Go back to sleep. I'm fine."

His friends exchanged skeptical looks. Courfeyrac shrugged, sitting down by the door. "You're not getting rid of us that easily, mate. We won't laugh."

"Yes you will."

"No, we won't."

"Yes. You. Will."

"Dude, Everybody cries sometimes, right 'Ferre?"

Combeferre nodded. "He's right."

"I'm not crying," Enjolras snapped.

"And I'm the pope." Courfeyrac replied. "Really, E, it's okay-"

"Big boys don't cry," Enjolras hissed savagely through the door. "That's what father always says."

Courfeyrac sighed. "He also insists your going to run his company someday," He said. "And I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen, so it's safe to say he's not always right."

Enjolras hiccuped, his head bumping against the door.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Combeferre asked softly. "Or something else?"

Silence from the other side of the door. Then, finally.

"Yeah. Nightmare. "

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Enjolras sniffed. "It...," he whispered after a moment. "It was my fault... I was...supposed to lead them and they all died. You and Courf and G-" He bit back a sob. "I don't remember who the rest were...but they died...and it was my fault."

"But we're still here. It was just a dream, you know?"

"I know," Enjolras said. "But it was...It felt real. It feels like it happened before." He sniffed and opened the door a crack, a bleary eye appearing in the sliver of light. "But that's impossible, right?"

Courfeyrac shrugged. "I don't think you killed anyone, if that's what you mean."

Enjolras shook his head. "It's impossible." The eye blinked and turned to stare at Combeferre. "Please, 'Ferre, tell me it's impossible."

"I-" The words caught in his throat, and he shook his head. "I don't think anything's impossible," he said quietly. "But I'm with Courf. You didn't, you know, shoot one of us, did you?"

"No. No. Of course not." He bit his lip. "But I...might as well have."

"Now that's bullshit."

"Courf!"

"Well it is!"

"Still! You're lucky we're not at my house, my mother would wash your mouth out with soap."

Enjolras laughed softly, rubbing his eyes. He opened the door and crawled out sheepishly, hiking his bright red t-shirt over his knees as he settled down beside Combeferre. "Sorry I woke you guys."

Courfeyrac snorted. "No one goes to a sleepover actually expecting to get any sleep anyways. Except maybe 'Ferre." He leaned in, speaking in an exaggerated whisper. "But it's his job. As resident party pooper."

Combeferre sniffed. "Scoff if you want. 'Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man-'"

"Dull as hell."

"Courf!"

"What?!"

"Language!"

"Bite me, Combeferre!"

"You're just jealous because I kicked your sorry butt at Mario Kart."

"You're just jealous because all the girls like me better!"

"Come on guys," Enjolras mused, eyes flicking between them. "You heard Courf's mum, no dueling after midnight or she'll kick us out." He frowned. "And I don't want to have to go home just yet."

"Neither do I." Combeferre said, pushing his glasses back and extending a hand. "Truce?"

"Truce." Courfeyrac agreed. "'Til morning at least." He slung an arm around his shoulders, ruffling his hair affectionately. "You may have won tonight, but tomorrow the tournament victory shall be mine. No one's that lucky all the time."

"I told you, it's not luck. It's practice." Combeferre replied, ducking out of Courfeyrac's grasp. He grabbed the bag of chips and settled back into his sleeping bag with them. "You'll see."

Courfeyrac shrugged, rolling his eyes. He flashed Enjolras a look of Can you believe this guy? and shrugged again, flopping into his own mass of blankets.

Enjolras untangled himself from his shirt, returning to his own spot on the couch. He settled in, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully as they fell into a comfortable silence, his eyes following the rough swirls of paint that swept across the dimpled concrete.

"Do you think it's possible..." he murmured slowly. "That dream could have been real?"

Combeferre glanced over at him. "I don't know," he said. "I mean, no one knows that much about dreams, not even scientists." He spoke the last word reverently. "I'm not going to be the one to say it's totally out of the question."

Courfeyrac's smile faded. "How did we die...in your dream?"

Enjolras' brows furrowed. "I...forget now. There was some sort of battle...there were soldiers and guns..."

He lapsed into silence, closing his eyes. "That's all I remember."

Courfeyrac nodded. "Then it's all okay," he said. "People don't go into battle over nothing, you know? If we went into battle with you, we probably had a good reason."

"We were probably fighting for the same thing." Combeferre added, removing his glasses. "I can't see it being otherwise."

"Damn straight. All for one, one for all, that sort of thing." Courfeyrac popped out of his blanket nest, leaning over to rest a hand on Enjolras' shoulder. "So try not to feel too bad about it, okay?"

Enjolras nodded. Courfeyrac wrestled a quilt out of the tangle and draped it over him, smiling softly. "After all it was just a dream."

"Just a dream," Enjolras echoed. "Right."

"Just a dream," Combeferre repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "G'night guys."

"Goodnight."

"'Night"

All three boys fell silent, pulling a little closer to each other as one by one, they closed their eyes and drifted back to sleep.


End file.
